Page 10 of Mountain Man's Flirty Farmgirl
His arms tightened around me, and for the first time all night, I felt it—the shift between us. Something deeper than just heat, just want.
Something that felt like more.
6
BLADE
She ruined me under the stars, and now I couldn’t even look at her.
I threw another crate onto the back of the flatbed and wiped the sweat from my brow, though the morning air was still cool. The sun had barely cleared the ridge, but vendors were already setting up, and festival-goers were trickling in early.
And she was there. Sienna. Smiling like nothing had changed. Like we hadn’t given ourselves to each other just hours ago. Like I hadn’t spent half the night replaying the sound of her moans in my head and the other half telling myself to forget them.
After our session under the stars, I drove her back to the lodge and dropped her off at the door. We’d held hands on the short drive, but we’d barely spoken. When she kissed my cheek and hopped out of the truck, she clearly had a skip in her step.
She was happy. Being with me had made her happy. It had terrified me to the core.
I didn’t belong with a woman like her. She was sunshine and fall flowers and hope. I was none of those things.
So I stayed away. I kept my head down, hauling tables, directing parking, rerouting electrical cords—anything that let me avoid her booth. I told myself I was doing her a favor. That she needed a clean break. That this town was just a stop on her way to somewhere better.
But every time I heard her laugh or caught sight of her hair swaying behind the booth, something inside me clenched. Like I was walking around half-alive.
I was dropping off a box of hand-painted signs at the entry tent when I heard it. A gasp. A thud.
Then someone shouted, “She fell! Somebody help!”
My heart stopped. I dropped the box, didn’t care that the corner split open and wooden signs scattered across the grass. I was already running.
By the time I reached Sienna’s booth, she was slumped on the ground, one hand gripping the table leg. Her eyes were half-closed. Someone knelt beside her, waving a paper fan, but no one was doing a damn thing that was useful.
I pushed through the crowd. “Move.”
They moved. I dropped to my knees, lifted her into my arms like she weighed nothing, and stood. Her head lolled gently against my chest.
“What happened?” I barked at no one in particular.
“She was fine one second and then—she just collapsed,” someone said. “Maybe the heat?”
I didn’t answer. Just turned and walked. Fast. The shaded break tent was only fifty yards away, and by the time I reached it, a volunteer had sprinted ahead to get a fan going. Another handed me a cold bottle of water and an ice pack.
I set her on the padded bench, knelt beside her, and gently pressed the ice pack to her neck. “Sienna. Hey, look at me. Come on.”
Her eyelids fluttered. “Blade?”
Relief hit me like a sledgehammer.
“You fainted,” I said. “Try to stay still.”
“I—” Her lips parted. “I didn’t eat. Just coffee. I didn’t want to be late.”
“You scared the hell out of me.”
Her brows pulled together, like that confused her more than anything. I sat on the bench beside her and leaned forward, elbows on my knees, trying to steady my breath.
“I told myself to stay away,” I said quietly. “Told myself you were too good for me. That I wasn’t built for whatever this is between us.”
She turned her head to look at me. Her cheeks were still pale, but her eyes were clear now, focused.
